


Wherever Your Heart Is

by accidental



Series: when you fall [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidental/pseuds/accidental
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to Night Shift.</p><p>A few weeks into their relationship, Gareth asks Andy to move in with him.</p><p>“ It’s the middle of the night, I’m drunk, I’m freezing cold, and we’re sitting in a fucking car park, and it’s... beautiful.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever Your Heart Is

“I can’t get it in,” Hawke moaned.

“Try moving to the left, just a little bit. Yeah, that’s better...  " Andrew encouraged him. “Now, push it in harder!”

“Like that?”

“Harder…”

Gareth let out a little grunt of exertion.  A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead, and landed, with a tiny splash, on Andrew’s arm.

“That’s it, right there… that’s perfect...”  

“Fuck, it  keeps coming out again!

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” Andrew smirked. 

Hawke sighed and sat back on his heels, brandishing a screwdriver in one hand and the broken table leg in the other.

 “I don’t see why you can’t just get a new one,” he complained.

“Because I’m not made of money?” Andrew crawled out from between the legs of the upside down table to plant a kiss on his lover’s lips.

“I've got coffee breath,” Hawke warned.

“I don’t care.” He leaned in, lightly tracing the curve of Gareth’s lips with the tip of his tongue, feeling them part, warm and silky smooth, eager beneath his touch. Gareth sank back, steadying himself with his hands as Andrew pressed closer against him, between his legs. His hands stroked Gareth's thighs through his jeans, reaching around to cup his arse.

“Is that a screwdriver in your pocket?” he whispered, with a lopsided little grin, “or are you just…”

“No, it really is a screwdriver," Gareth laughed, and then let out a breathy little moan of pleasure as Andrew's hand moved round to explore in more detail. "Ok, that's not.... that's... fuck, Andy..."

“Is that an invitation?” Andrew grinned. He tugged at the zip of Hawke's jeans and the movement threw them both off balance, sending Gareth sprawling backwards onto the floor, with Andrew on top of him.

“Not here.” Gareth protested. “Last time we did it on the floor I had carpet burns on my arse for a week.”

“You’re such a lightweight.” Andrew chuckled, but he got to his feet, pulling Hawke up after him and almost dragging him into the tiny bedroom, where they collapsed beside each other on top of the unmade bed. For a second, neither of them moved. They lay there, caught up in each others eyes.

Hawke was always trying to come up with new ways to describe the colour of Andy’s eyes, making his lover laugh by telling him they were like dark honey, like soft golden caramel, or fine malt whiskey. Now though, they were dark and hungry, the pupils like black holes, like the empty spaces between stars. Gareth saw himself reflected there, and felt a dizzying wave of desire surge through him.

He had wanted Andrew from the moment he saw him, and six weeks of sharing a bed with the man had only seemed to make his longing more urgent.

There were times when he could think of nothing else, when he’d be doing something ordinary -  working out at the gym, or sitting through a boring meeting - and an image of Andrew would flash into his head, and he’d catch his breath, overwhelmed by a rush of raw _wanting_ that left his mind reeling, his body sensitised and aching with need.

Andrew was sweaty and disheveled from their attempts at DIY. His hair fell loosely around his face. He was totally, irresistibly, fuckable, Gareth thought, as he pulled Andy’s white T shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor. Beneath it, his lover’s body was lean and pale. A line of hair, slightly darker than that on his head, trailed down over his taut belly to disappear beneath the waistband of his scruffy sweatpants. The sight of it quickened Hawke's breath. He leaned down to kiss Andrew's throat, gently nibbling at the lobes of his ears, feeling him squirm hungrily beneath him. Andy’s hand was down the front of his jeans, cupping Gareth’s balls, stroking the length of his cock firmly through the white cotton of his underwear until he felt he might burst. Gareth reached down to grab his wrist.

“Not yet... not like this.” His voice was thick. “I want to come inside you...”

“Oh God, yes... please...”  Andrew was tugging roughly at his clothes now, wrestling them over his hips and pulling Gareth down on top of him. Gareth reached down to the floor beside the bed, fumbling blindly for the container of lube he’d dropped there the night before. His fingers closed around the tube and he squirted it into the palm of his hand. Andy let out a needy little whimper as Gareth's touch met his skin, slicking the cool silky substance between his legs, slowly working one finger into him, and then another. He wrapped his other hand around Andy's cock, sliding it smoothly over the skin, feeling the heat of him against his palm.

 “Oh...” Andy gasped. “Gareth, fuck... I want...” His nails dug into the skin on Hawke's back, hard enough to hurt.

What do you want, sweetheart?"

"I want you."

Gareth kissed him, slowly, deeply, and then plunged inside him in one slow, smooth thrust, burying himself deeply, hearing the catch of Andy's breath, the low moan that escaped his lips as Gareth filled him. He could never get enough of this, never get enough of him. He pulled back slightly, and then pushed in again, harder this time, watching Andy's face as he moved, the way he bit his lip, his eyelids fluttering closed. 

“Andy...”

“Mmm...”

“It’s... you feel amazing.” He wanted to tell him how glorious it was, but there were no words for it, no words to describe how beautiful Andy was beneath him, how it felt to be inside him.

“Does it feel good for you, sweetheart?” he asked.

“...feels better than anything else in the world. I love you fucking me.” Andrew arched his hips. He lifted his legs to wrap them around his lover’s waist, pulling him in deeper. Gareth thrust, and the bed creaked violently, the headboard thudding against the wall. Andy moaned loudly, his hands clutching at the sheets and pillow, bunching them in his fists as he desperately sought something to hold on to. Gareth clutched his hip, fingers digging in, holding him in place as he fucked him, and Andy cried out sharply, shuddering, his come spilling over Hawke’s fingers and onto his stomach and chest.

Gareth ran his fingers through the thick, pearly liquid, and then raised them to Andrew’s face, smearing them across the other man’s lips, and he watched as Andy's tongue, pale and pointed as a cat's, flicked over his palm. The sight of it brought him to the edge.

 “Oh, that’s lovely. You’re so lovely..." He grabbed hold of Andrew’s hips roughly, thrusting deeply, almost desperately into his lover’s body, emptying himself into the tight, velvety heat of him.

They kissed, their lips raw, their mouths hot and clumsy, neither of them wanting it to be over. Andy lay with his head on Gareth’s chest, their arms around each other, a thin film of sweat forming between their bodies. 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Hawke warned him, after a while. “You’ve got to be at work in an hour, remember?”

“Bugger. I'd rather stay in bed all day, with you.”

They were interrupted by a soft mewling sound, as Pounce jumped up onto the bed and tiptoed across their chests.

“Baby!” Andrew scooped the cat up in his arms, rubbing his cheek against the soft gingery fur.

 “Pounce wants to stay in bed too, don’t you Pounce?” He took the cats paw in his hand and waved it at Gareth. “See, that means yes. It’s how he communicates. He doesn't want me to go.”

"I don't want you to go either," Hawke said, "But i'm not about to let you get fired." He nudged him gently with his elbow.  “Come on - shower, now! I’ll make some tea while you get yourself sorted.”

Andy groaned. “Yes sir, right away sir!” He jumped up and headed for the bathroom, and Gareth reluctantly got up too, leaving Pounce to settle, purring, into the warm space where their bodies had been.

From the kitchen, Gareth could hear Andy singing some sort of cheesy show tune over the roar of the shower. He waited for the kettle to come to the boil, sorting through the slightly eccentric collection of mugs in the cupboard beneath the sink, finally settling on one with a cartoon alien on it, and another that said Boy Magnet. As he poured boiling water into the mugs his hands trembled, just a little, at the thought of what he was planning to do.

He’d had it all worked out in his head earlier, exactly what he wanted to say, but now his mind was suddenly blank.

 _It’s too soon,_ He thought, panicking. _I’m just going to make myself look sad and desperate. Andy's going to laugh his bloody arse off..._

Then Andrew appeared in the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless, wet hair clinging to his face, and Gareth forgot how to breathe.

 _Don't think too much,_ he told himself. _Just do it; do it now._

“There's something i want you to have,” he said.

He reached out and took the blond man’s hand, pressed something cold and silver into his palm.

“What is it?”

Andy looked puzzled.

“It's a key. I thought, maybe... you might like to move in with me.”

Andrew examined the key as if he’d never seen one before and couldn’t quite work out what it did. Then his fingers curled into a fist around it, gripping it tightly.  He didn’t say anything, and Gareth began to feel flustered.

“I mean, it makes sense,” he went on. “You’re struggling to pay the bills, and I’m all on my own in that big house... And I’d really like it. I want to be with you.”

 Andy looked up, his amber eyes indecipherable.

“What about Pounce?” he asked.

“Pounce too, of course.”

“Spike won’t eat him?”

Hawke laughed. “Spike will probably think he’s a puppy and adopt him! You know what he‘s like.”

“Gareth, I don’t know what to say...” Andy did that fragile little smile of his, the one that hovered around the corner of his mouth briefly, as if he didn’t quite trust it enough to let it hang around. The one that always made Gareth want to kiss him, to see if he could taste it there on his lips.

“It’s ok," he reassured him. " you don’t have to say anything now. The offer’s there. Promise me you’ll think about it?”

“I won’t be able to think about anything else all day now!” Andy let out a delighted little laugh. He shoved the key down deep into the pocket of his jeans, and imagined he could feel it there, glowing, like something with magical powers.

*****

As Andrew made his way across the park towards the hospital, he couldn’t help smiling. The skin on his still face felt raw from the rub of Gareth’s stubble; his body was pleasantly sore. Hawke’s key was in the pocket of his shabby brown leather jacket now, and he kept one finger hooked through the metal ring as he walked, reluctant to let go of it for even a second.

Gareth Hawke was the best thing to ever happen to him. He seemed to represent everything that had been missing in Andrew‘s life - he was strength, kindness, a sense of calm. Not to mention he had the sort of body you usually only saw in magazines.

 Even his bad jokes were somehow endearing.

 Andrew had never dared imagine he would meet someone who could make him feel like this. He was, he thought, happier than he’d ever been before.  

So why did he suddenly feel so uneasy?

He wouldn’t have thought it was possible to experience two such conflicting emotions at the same time, but there it was - the queasy, lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach, the itch at the back of his skull. The old, familiar, instinct that urged him to run.

He’d spent most of his life running away, from one thing or another. When it came to the choice between fight or flight, he’d picked flight so often it was a wonder he hadn’t started sprouting feathers.

 _I’m such a fucking loser,_ he thought. _I’m panicking because someone actually likes me! Because he won’t want me when he realises what a bloody mess I am, and I already feel like I can’t breathe without him..._

His fingers tightened around the key in his pocket.

He broke into a run.

*****

Gareth glanced at the clock on his laptop and sighed. It was almost half one. Andrew’s shift had finished at ten, and he usually called as soon as he got in. Gareth guessed there’d probably been some sort of emergency at work, but couldn’t help feeling slightly wounded all the same. He’d thought maybe Andrew would turn up unannounced - letting himself in casually with the key he'd had given him, as if the place was already his home.

He hadn’t admitted to himself just how much he wanted that.

During the weeks since they’d first met, the only times they’d slept apart had been when Andrew was working nights. He was used to falling asleep beside him, now, waking up tangled together, with Andy’s hair in his face and his arms wrapped around him.

Gareth thought back to the first time they’d shared a bed. They’d both been awake all night, and Hawke had been dosed up on painkillers. The sex had felt druggy and unreal, like something in a dream. Those first few times, Andy had been so sweet and gentle, so afraid of hurting him, that Gareth could never have guessed he would turn out to be such an intensely passionate lover. His own past experiences had been relatively limited. He was endlessly fascinated by Andy's moods, by the way he could be sweet and uncertain, almost shy one minute, utterly shameless the next. It felt as though he'd never have enough of him.

He was so caught up thinking about it that, when his phone rang, he jumped a little.

 Fen’s name flashed up on the screen, and Gareth felt a little twinge of disappointment.

“Hey.”

Fen’s beautiful voice, like smoke and bitter chocolate.

“Hawke? I’m in the Rose. Your boyfriend‘s here - I think you should probably come and get him.”

“What do you mean?” Hawke  asked. “What's happened? Is Andy all right?" As he spoke, he realised he was already standing up, searching for his car keys.

“He’s all right now, but I give it maybe five minutes before he gets himself into trouble.”

“I don't understand...”  Gareth grabbed his jacket  and managed to get his left arm through the sleeve, then fumbled with the right arm, tucking his phone under his chin.  “Never mind, you can tell me when I get there.”

He slammed the door shut behind him and, jacket still only half on, hurried out into the dark.

*****

Fen was leaning against the wall just inside the entrance of the bar, waiting for him. He was dressed, as usual, completely in black, and the dramatic combination of dark clothes, pale hair and olive complexion was stunning.

“Hawke.” Fen never addressed Gareth by his first name. Gareth had no idea why - it was just one of his affectations. He was a complete poser, really. Gareth suspected he only got away with it because he was so good looking.

“What’s going on, Fen? Where’s Andrew? Is he ok?”

The smaller man nodded towards the back of the bar, where Hawke could just about make out the coppery blond of Andy’s hair through the crowd.

“He’s off his face, and he's being an absolute arsehole," Fen said bluntly. His mouth turned down disapprovingly. " I really don’t know what you see in him.”

The words stung, but Gareth didn’t want to fall out with his friend. He forced a smile.

“You’re just jealous,” he joked.

Fen raised an eyebrow, which was about as expressive as he ever got.

At that moment, Andrew spotted them and waved.  “Gareth!” he shouted. “We’ve been having cocktails!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you...” Fen muttered, as Gareth headed over to towards the other side of the bar.

Andrew sat with his arm draped around the neck of a brown-haired boy in a striped T-shirt. His face was flushed, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“I just had something called a Blow Job, ” he giggled. “It made me feel a bit sick, actually. This is Jamie,” he added, patting the boy‘s knee. “He showed me his tattoo. I bet he’d show you too, if you ask him nicely. D’you wanna see it?  ”

Gareth shook his head stiffly. “I‘m all right, thanks.”

Andrew pulled a face. “You’re no fun….”

Jamie sniggered, and Hawke looked at him properly for the first time, noticed the faint red mark at the base of the boy’s throat.

Andy left marks like that on him, sometimes - tiny bruises that blossomed like flowers beneath his lips.

Pain slammed through his body. He was caught off guard by the intensity of it. His _heart_ hurt, for fucksake - how was that even possible? He clutched at the back of the seat beside him, suddenly afraid he might fall.

“Come home with me,” he said, and was surprised when he heard his voice come out sounding so ordinary.

Andy laughed. "Telling me what do to do now, are you?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Andrew regretted them. Gareth flinched, and it felt like he'd hit him. He shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant...” he said.

Hawke turned abruptly and headed for the door, and the sight of him, walking away, was like being slapped round the face.

“Gareth, wait...”

Andy jumped up, pushing past the amused Jamie. He ran after Hawke, elbowing his way through the crowd of people between them, only vaguely aware of the fact that that he was splashing lager down someone’s shirt as he pushed past. He finally caught up with him in the car park, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him round until they were face to face.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew groaned. He looked close to tears. “Oh God Gareth, I’m such a fucking idiot!”

“It’s okay...”  

“No, it’s not! You deserve so much better.”

Gareth took a step towards him without really meaning to. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd pulled Andrew close, wrapping his arms around the man’s slender body, breathing in the scent of vodka and weed that clung to his clothes and hair. The pain was a dull background ache that he found he could more or less ignore - it seemed somehow less important than the fact that Andy was there, warm and solid, in his arms.

 _It’ll be alright,_ he told himself.

It had to be. He didn’t think he could bear it if it wasn’t.

Andrew leaned against him, slightly unsteady on his feet.

“Could we just.. . sit down somewhere, for a minute? I think i need some fresh air,” he said.

“You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

“Don’t think so. I just want to sit quietly, clear my head.”

He guided Andrew over to where he’d left the car, and lowered himself onto the low wall beside it. Andrew sat down beside him. He leaned against Gareth’s side and Gareth held onto him, noticing the way his hair glinted gold under the yellow streetlight.

For a while they just sat there, listening to the hum of voices from the bar, the thud of the bass like a distant heartbeat, the seashell sounds of cars up on the main road.  

Andrew tilted his head back to look at the sky, at the stars that shimmered above them, icy and impossibly distant.

He rested his head against his lover‘s shoulder. It felt so right, being close to him like this. The thought of hurting him was unbearable. What the fuck had he thought he was doing?

“I love you, Gareth.” he said softly. “I’m sorry I'm such an arse.”

“I happen to love your arse. it's one of your most endearing features.”

Andrew chuckled, and Hawke kissed his hair.

“It’s going to be ok,” he insisted. “I promise.”

Andrew shook his head. “You can't. You can’t promise that.”

Gareth had never seen Andrew like this before. There was a darkness about him, something sharp edged and glittering; he seemed dangerous and yet achingly vulnerable at the same time. It unnerved Gareth; made him realise how little they really knew each other. 

“What’s wrong, love? Has something happened?”

“Apart from me getting hideously drunk and making a twat of myself, you mean?” Andrew lowered his head, pressing the side of his face into Hawke’s shirt,  breathing in the smell of clean flesh and fabric softener. The pulse of Gareth’s heartbeat against his cheek was strangely soothing.

When he eventually spoke his voice was deliberately unemotional.

“They brought this girl in today,” he said. “Seventeen years old. She was out shopping with her friends, and a car ran up onto the pavement and hit her. It crushed her against a wall. The driver had a heart attack at the wheel and lost control, it was just one of those awful, completely random, horrible things. She had severe internal injuries, and there was nothing we could do for her. I spent the whole afternoon sitting with her parents, watching her die. It was...” His voice trailed off into silence.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, love.”

Andy shook his head.

 ”I see people die all the time," he said. "Old people, kids…. It’s not like you ever get used to it, exactly, but... this one really got to me.“

Gareth realised he was trying to suppress a tremor, and tightened his grip around him comfortingly.

"It reminded me of Karl," Andrew said.

Hawke didn't know what to say. Karl was just a name; a smiling, bearded, face in a photograph on Andrew’s cluttered bookshelf. He knew he'd died in an accident a few years ago, but Andy never talked about him.

Hawke suspected there were lots of things Andy never talked about - things that haunted his dreams and woke him, tearful and trembling, in the night.

“Do you want to tell me?” he asked.

“ I don’t know. I've never really... “ Andrew gave a tense little shrug. The image flashed into his mind, Karl laying, pale and shrunken, against the white sheets. Wires and plastic tubes everywhere, the hiss of the ventilator, the bleep of the monitor as it measured out his life in heartbeats. There hadn't been a mark on him. He rubbed the heel of his hand over one eye. 

"There's not much to say."

Hawke felt out of his depth, helpless. He pressed his lips to the top of Andy's head, and went on holding him.

“After he died i didn't cope very well,” Andrew went on, his voice still surprisingly controlled.

 “ Karl was all i had. If it wasn't for him, i don't know... and it _hurt..._ and I was so angry. I wanted to make someone pay, but the only person I had to take it out on was myself.” He paused, then added “I was a mess, Gareth. ”

“I’ve lost people close to me too; I know what it’s like, love,” Hawke reminded him.

“ I know, but I’m not strong, like you. When I get scared, I do really stupid things. It‘s like I have a self-destruct button. I run away, hide myself in a bottle, or in someone else’s bed...”

“Is that what happened tonight?” Gareth thought of the bruise on Jamie’s neck. He pushed the image away, refused to acknowledge the pain that went with it.

Andrew nodded miserably. “Sort of. It's almost like someone else takes over and I'm just watching from a distance..." He sniffed, and rubbed at his eyes again. "I'm sorry. I know how pathetic that sounds. I didn't mean to hurt you." 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, as the music from the bar stopped, and the lights went out one by one. He felt Andy’s weight against his chest. Something had changed between them; he wasn't sure what it was yet, but he felt a strength and a certainty he hadn't known was there.

“Is it because i asked you to move in with me? Is that what you're frightened of?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Sometimes i think i'm scared of everything. Being happy. Being loved..." Andrew let out a bitter little laugh. “I was doing a pretty good job of not thinking about the future, up until today.”

“You don‘t have to move in.” Hawke sounded apologetic. “ I just thought...”

“ You don’t get it, do you?” Andrew shook his head. “ It’s the middle of the night, I’m drunk, I’m freezing cold, and we’re sitting in a fucking car park, and it’s... beautiful. I never imagined there could be anything like this. You make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life, and it scares the shit out of me.”

“ I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“But you will!" Andy insisted. "You won’t mean to, but things happen...  people change, they fall out of love, or they die... and I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gareth Hawke. I look at you, and it’s like I’m falling.”

He looked up at Gareth, a single tear caught, quivering, on his lashes. Gareth reached out hesitantly to wipe it away with his thumb. His touch felt clumsy, inelegant. A phrase came back to him, something someone had said to him once, though he wasn't sure who, or where he'd heard it.

“It‘s only when you fall, that you learn whether you can fly," he said.

“God, that’s awful.” Andrew couldn‘t help laughing, despite himself. “Did you get that with a Chinese takeaway?”

“I can't remember - I think it might have been in a film. Or maybe I dreamed it.” Hawke laughed too. “It’s true though, Andy - the scarier something is, the more it's worth having. If I‘d let myself think about it too much, I‘d never have waited for you outside the hospital that morning.”

“I’m glad you did.”

They were so close; bodies touching, lips close enough to each feel the warmth of the other's breath against them, but it somehow it still felt like they were too far apart. 

Andrew placed his hands either side of Gareth’s face and kissed him, deeply and unhurriedly.

“Love you."

Hawke felt the words vibrate against his lips, warm and faintly vodka flavoured.

“I love you too,” he said.

“I don’t want to fuck this up,“ Andrew said. “I want to be with you. I want to just... close my eyes and jump.”

“ We’re in this together, love. I‘m jumping with you.” Hawke smiled, that warm, wide open grin that had been the first thing Andrew loved about him.

“It’ll be an adventure,” he said.

Their lips met again, hungry and bruising, and Gareth’s hands came up to tangle themselves in Andy‘s hair. Andrew slid his hands beneath Hawke’s jacket. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Gareth’s skin was chilly to the touch.

“If we sit here much longer, I’ll lose all the feeling in my arse.” he said. “I suppose you think that will be an adventure too.”

“That would be more like a tragedy.”

 Andrew laughed. His fingers found their way beneath Hawke’s shirt, sliding over the tautly ridged muscles of his belly, and down below the waistband of his trousers.

 “Let’s go home, love,“ he said.

“Shall we go to yours?”

 Andrew shook his head. “Yours. I suppose I should start calling it ours, now,“ he corrected himself, and felt Gareth's smile go all the way through him.

 _I can make him happy._ he thought. _I can spend the rest of my life making him happy, if i want to. Seeing him smile. Talking to him, and touching him, falling asleep beside him at night._

He couldn't imagine anything more wonderful.

Gareth took his key fob from his pocket and pointed it towards the car. The locks clicked, the lights flickered on. The future suddenly seemed full of endless possibilities.

 _We could go anywhere,_ Andrew thought. _It doesn't matter where we are, as long as we're together._

He smiled as he got into the car beside Hawke.

He was going home.


End file.
